


Without Masks

by kerithwyn



Category: DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Early Work, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-11-01
Updated: 1999-11-01
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerithwyn/pseuds/kerithwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse Quick visits Bludhaven--and meets a man she already knows. Early work written from 1999 to 2000.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Without Masks

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the H.I.V.E./Tartarus arc.
> 
> Originally posted late 1999.

 

I've heard Wally speak his mantra a hundred times. Here's my version:

"My name is Jesse Belle Chambers. I'm Jesse Quick. And I'm the fastest woman alive."

But y'know, sometimes even the fastest hero needs a breather. After the H.I.V.E./Tartarus case, I was *exhausted.* I needed a break, so I decided to do something I'd been meaning to for a long time: go see a man about a book.

I headed down to Blüdhaven to visit Jonathan Law, once a hero called the Tarantula and the author of *Behind the Mask.* I'd read it obsessively during my college days. I'd called myself a "student of superheroes" and that was the literal truth; I'd done a couple of papers on heroes and their role in society until the profs told me to cut it out and try something else.

Mom wasn't too happy when she heard I'd be seeing him--I figured they had a pretty nasty break-up, from what little she'd told me--but then again, mom wasn't too happy with me in general, lately.

The whole superhero thing gets to her. It's ironic, considering Liberty Belle was one of the most prominent heroes of her time--led the All-Star Squadron and everything. But ever since dad died, she's gotten to hate the whole idea. I *know* it's mostly that she's worried about me, that I'll get hurt or killed. Like him. But if I quit, who'll be around to remind people of Johnny Quick? The Flashes don't have the *only* speed legacy on the planet, and I mean to make sure no one forgets that.

Yeah, I'm a workaholic, Nightwing had that pegged all right. I admit it. But when access to the speed force gives me the ability to do so much--run dad's company and be one of the Titans both--how could I pass up the opportunity?

Hmm. Blüdhaven is Nightwing's turf. Wonder if he'll be out tonight?

It's totally *academic* interest, one hero in another's territory, that kind of thing. Really. Yeah, so he's intelligent and a good leader and sexy as hell. I'm not blind. But like I told Wally, I've got no interest in being anybody's girlfriend at the expense of my own identity. And the way Starfire glares at me, I wouldn't want to try. I know they used to be together, but *sheesh!*

There was an Asian woman painting over the front door of the apartment building. I assumed she was the landlady. "Excuse me, but which apartment is Jonathan Law's?"

"So yer wantin' to visit Mr. Law, are y'now?" I tried not to blink at the strong Irish accent that seemed so incongruous with her face. "And y'are, if I might ask? I like t' know who's visitin' my tenants."

"Jesse Chambers. He's expecting me."

"G' on up then, he's in 3F. He doesn't get many visitors, nice to see someone takin' an interest. I'm Clancy, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Clancy."

I went up the stairs and knocked. He opened the door, and for a moment I was shocked--he looked so *old.* I mean, he looked his age, that was all. I'd been so used to seeing Jay Garrick and Alan Scott and all the others avoid the ravages of time through magic or strange science or whatever. Even mom looks younger than she is, from the residual effects of her powers.

But Jon Law was just a man who put on a costume as research to write a book.

"Jesse? Goodness." He stared at me so hard I thought he could see right through me. "You look just like your mother." He shook his head. "I suppose you get that a lot. Please, come in!"

"Thank you, sir. I--"

He interrupted before I could say another word. "Please, call me Jon. You're in the business, after all. No formalities between us."

I smiled and let it go. "Thanks. And thank you for agreeing to see me. I know it was short notice."

"Oh, it's my pleasure. I'm glad for the company. Tea?" I nodded, and he waved toward the living room. "Have a seat, I'll be right out."

I sat on the sofa, avoiding the chair that was obviously *his,* and glanced around. Nice place. Small, but clean. Unremarkable.

He came out with a small tray and set it on the table; I reached out to pour. "I've been following the news about the reformation of the Titans. Looks like a good team."

"It is! It's a great opportunity."

He smiled. "A little ironic that the Justice Society reformed right after, isn't it? Would you rather have been there?"

You know, that was a darned good question. The All-Stars and JSA teamed up so often in the old days, a lot of people just lumped them together. It would have made sense, but.... "I thought about it. I guess I felt...well, it's a different kind of team. The JSA is about the past, and I respect that. I practically grew up idolizing half the team!"

"But?"

"When Nightwing asked me to join, he talked about the Titans as forward-looking, proactive. I liked that. Half the time it seems superheroes just *react,* you know? There's a lot of energy in the Titans."

"It's a younger team, with younger members." He grinned and sipped at his tea. "I don't blame you for not wanting to hang around with the old fogies."

"Oh, it's not that at all!" I caught his amusement and realized he'd been baiting me. "Sentinel and the Flash and Black Canary and Wildcat, they're legends. I'd love to work with them. It's more about...legacy."

"I think I know what you're getting at, Jesse, but tell me anyway."

I thought for a minute. "Okay. It's...the costume I wear, my name, it's my father's legacy. It's a way of keeping his memory alive." For a moment it hurt just like it did for the days and weeks after he was killed.

Mr. Law said quietly, "I was terribly sorry to hear of your father's death. He was a great man, and I'm proud to have known him."

"Yeah." Not many kids can brag of having genuine heroes for parents; I'd had two. "So the costume is one way of honoring him. But it's also *mine.* In the JSA I might have been Johnny Quick's daughter. With the Titans I'm Jesse Quick. Does that make sense?"

"Certainly. It's a unique vantage point you have, being so much a part of the past and the future at the same time." I guess that satisfied him, because he went on, "But how silly, you came all the way here to see me and I'm grilling you about your own life. What did you want to ask me?"

"If you don't mind, I've got some questions about a few details in your book, and I'd love to hear about anything else from that time. The whole dynamic is really fascinating, heroes in large groups and the way they interrelate--" I caught myself before I could launch into a thesis. "Sorry. I used to ambush mom and dad like that, too. But getting another perspective, that's mostly what I'm interested in. And yours is sort of unique, since you went in as an observer...." Oops. Mouth faster than brain much, Jesse? "Not that you didn't do plenty of good work yourself, I mean!"

He laughed, thank goodness. "I understand. Well, I'd be happy to answer your questions, though I'll have to beg your indulgence--it's been a long time, and some of the specifics might be a little past my powers of recollection. But you know, I have something that might help...." He got up and went over to the bookcase, pulling out a dusty photo album and an old shoebox that had been perched on a pile of last year's magazines. "The quality on these is slightly dubious, mind--"

It was a virtual treasure trove he had, pictures of heroes I'd known all my life and some I'd barely heard of. Even faded and out of focus, to me those photographs were as momentous as the discovery of the Rosetta Stone. "...these are amazing..."

He lifted one out of the box. "Oh, here, look at this--"

We went through those snapshots and talked well into the afternoon, and I learned so much. It wasn't a matter of things I didn't know before, but small observations that helped make a fuller picture. He had a great way of telling a story, and his remembrances were full of gentle amusement. I guess the whole costume thing is pretty funny, when you look at it from outside. But he never laughed *at* the memories, or what he and the All-Stars accomplished.

He was gathering up the scattered photos when he stopped at one. It was a good picture of mom talking to a couple of other heroes, the men obviously listening seriously to some instruction from the team leader. Mom did an awful lot for the women's rights movement just by being who she was.

"Jesse..." He looked so sad suddenly.

"What is it?"

"Would you...would you tell your mother I think of her? And that I'm sorry."

It *really* was none of my business. I knew mom had been with Jon after divorcing my father the first time they were married, and that it didn't end well. It wasn't my concern. Why dig up the past?

The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it. "Sure. But will you tell me what happened? With her."

"She never told you? No, I suppose she wouldn't." He was silent for a long moment, and I began to regret asking. "Are you sure you want to hear this? It's not a pretty story, and I'm not proud of it."

"I'd like to hear. But only if you're willing to tell it."

He nodded slowly. "You have the right to know. Well..." he settled himself back in his chair and half-closed his eyes, "it was after the war, of course, and we'd hung up our costumes. Most of the heroes had--we just weren't needed, not like before. I'd given mine up before Libby, with the publication of ‘Behind the Mask.' We moved to New Mexico and I started on my next book--my ‘Great American Novel.' I thought it'd be easy, since the first one came so effortlessly."

I could guess the next part. "It wasn't?"

"It wasn't. In fact, all my effort went nowhere. I spent hours at the typewriter and would maybe write a page that sounded wonderful in my head, but was *terrible* on paper. At least I recognized that." He sighed. "And Libby was bored. She'd been a newswoman, and a superhero. There really wasn't anything for her there. I realized much later that was part of the reason I'd chosen New Mexico--none of her old friends or old opportunities were there. I had her all to myself. But it wasn't fair." He glanced up at me. "Jesse, would you get me a glass of water? My throat's a bit dry."

"Of course!" I went into the kitchen, and when I came back out, he was standing at the window looking out onto the street. "Here."

"Thank you, dear." He took a sip and went on, still staring out the glass. "So, Libby was bored and I was frustrated. Of course I never *told* her the novel wasn't going well--wasn't going *anywhere*--but she knew anyway. I...started to drink, to wash away the taste of failure. Meanwhile, Libby was offered a job at a local television station--her own current affairs show. She was glad to escape the house while I struggled with the book. I resented her for that, her success while mine eluded me. It was bad, Jesse."

"I...you don't have to say any more...."

"No, I do. It's a part of your mother's life and you should know." He took a deep breath and turned around to face me. "Finally I did the only thing I could, to try to keep her with me--I asked her to marry me. No, that's not right. I *demanded* it, that we have kids and she give up her job. I was desperate--she was the only good thing I had left and I saw her moving away from me. But that doesn't justify...I did something unforgivable."

I couldn't say a word. The anguish in his eyes said everything.

"Your mother's got a temper--well, you know that. She lashed out verbally, calling me a ‘one-book wonder.' All my frustration came to a head and I...I tried to hit her." He held my gaze unflinchingly, telling it without masks. "I was drunk but that was no excuse, there was no excuse.... She threw me across the room and that was it. I tried to bring her back--gave up the bottle, promised her things'd be different, but it was over. I don't blame her in the least."

Oh, Lord...mom...I should be angry at him, and maybe part of me is, but he looks so *tired*... "I'm sorry...."

"Oh, Jesse. It's all past and there's nothing for it now. But *you*--I look at you and see the best of Libby and Johnny, and if it's not terribly presumptuous I'm proud of you. For what you do, carrying on for all of us. The good ones and the ones who failed, too."

"You didn't--"

"I became a superhero to write a book. Not for justice, or responsibility, or patriotism. And I did all right. But people like your parents, they're the real heroes." He smiled a little, and it wasn't bitter at all. "If history forgets the Tarantula, that's okay. Because he wasn't much of a hero. Johnny Quick and Liberty Belle...they *are.*"

"Y-yeah. Um...would you excuse me a second?" I had to retreat to the restroom before I broke down bawling. Ah, jeez....

It was occasionally humbling, remembering what I had to live up to. The example I *wanted* to live up to. My parents. *My* heroes, and the world's.

God, don't let me fail....

I pulled myself together and went back out. Mr. Law had put the photos away, and he seemed a little worn out. Well, no wonder, I'd accidentally dragged him through an emotional minefield. "I, um, I should get going...."

"Come back when you have time, Jesse--I'll introduce you to that nice young man down the hall. I think you'd like him." He was smiling.

Why's everyone always trying to set me up? Do I look that desperate? "Uh, thanks, maybe some other time."

He opened the door for me, a gentleman from another era, just as someone else was coming up the stairs. "Looks like I won't have to wait ‘til next time."

The guy--in good shape from the looks of him and frankly gorgeous--stopped on his way past us. "Afternoon, Mr. Law."

"Son, how many times do I have to tell you? It's Jon." He grinned at me. "Jesse Chambers, I'd like you to meet my neighbor, Richard-but-call-me-Dick Grayson."

I reached out a hand to shake. "Hello, Mr. Grayson."

"Ms. Chambers." His grip was firm. Something familiar here....

"Oh, please." Mr. Law rolled his eyes. "We weren't that formal even in *my* day."

Coincidence. Had to be. But during the H.I.V.E. battle, Changeling called Nightwing "Dick"--obviously all the old team members knew his identity--and *this* guy was the right height and hair color and he had some *serious* muscles under that T-shirt--

And he lived in *Blüdhaven* where Nightwing did...

Suddenly, I *really* wanted to know him. "So, um, what do you do, Richard?" All right, so being a Titan and running dad's business didn't give me much time to polish my social interaction skills.

"Dick. I've just joined the local PD. Got my shiny new badge and everything. You?"

...and a policeman might have access to files Nightwing would need...

"I, ah, run a small business in Philadelphia. QuickStart. We design--"

"--self-motivation programs, right, I've heard of it. Impressive." He smiled. Devastating. Quit it, Jesse. "So you came all the way to Blüdhaven to visit...Jon...here?" He only said it because Mr. Law was mock-glaring at him.

"I knew her parents, and she's been kind enough to visit with an old man...." When both of us turned to protest, he smiled and I knew we'd been had. But right now that was okay. "You know, it's getting on toward dinner. Why don't you kids go on? Dick, you could take Jesse to that bar you used to work at--not much too look at, but great atmosphere and good food--"

Any other time I might have made an excuse and left fast. But this was *perfect.* "Sounds great to me."

"Sure." Grayson's easy smile said he didn't have a care in the world. "Let me get cleaned up and we'll go--10 minutes okay? And you're sure you won't join us, Mr.--Jon?"

"Nah. Here, Jesse, you might as well come back in until Dick's ready. See you in--10, right?" It was less a question than a threat that said, ditch this girl and I'll pound on your door at 3 in the morning.... If he'd even be in, which I was beginning to doubt. Nightwing took after his name and did most of his work after sunset.

"Right." Dick took off and I looked back at Mr. Law.

"Uh--"

"I hope that wasn't too forward, Jesse, but you grab your opportunities when you see them."

I had to laugh. "It's all right."

"I'm glad. He's really a good man. Keeps odd hours though."

Uh-huh. I just bet.

Grayson knocked right at the required 10, and I said my goodbyes to Mr. Law. I'd definitely have to make time to visit again. I was also determined to talk mom into seeing him, but that was a fight for another time.

Then we were alone in the hallway. This was gonna be *interesting.*

"Hogan's Alley is only a few blocks away, if you don't mind walking?"

The voice was--hard to tell. That didn't mean anything. I'd observed the difference a mask makes dozens of times. "Not at all. Mr. Law said you used to work there?"

"Yeah. Hank Hogan's a great guy, an ex-cop. One of the few honest ones in the 'Haven who didn't end up--" he paused. "Never mind. It's not a pretty story."

"Sounds grim. I've heard some nasty things about this city." Blüdhaven was usually referred to with descriptives like "hellhole." "And you wanted to be a cop *here?*"

"If it's that bad, it can use all the help it can get. Why take the easy way out?"

I grinned. "Sounds like me."

"No wonder, with that company you run. Self-motivated usually means ‘workaholic' as well."

"‘Only way to get things done...'"

He snickered. "...‘is to do it yourself.' Believe me, I've heard it."

We walked another block without saying anything else. I saw him glance at me once or twice out of the corner of his eye before he said, "Um, I don't know how to say this without sounding rude...I don't know what Mr. Law told you, but I'm sorta involved with someone...."

Did he think I was flirting with him? I thought about getting mad but that embarrassment was just priceless. "‘Sorta?'"

He blushed. "Yeah. She's...trying to work through some things. It's a little complicated."

My curiosity was killing me by that point. If he was Nightwing, I was dying to know *who!* But if he wasn't pressing further was just rude. "Oh. Well, that's okay, I'm not really shopping around, anyway."

He raised an eyebrow. "Mind if I ask why? Just being nosy."

"Well, I could give you the political answer," like I'd ranted at Wally, "but mostly I've got a really hectic life, and I like it that way."

"Too busy for a social life? I can relate." He nodded toward a sign up ahead. "There it is. But you do find ways to have fun, right?"

"Sure. In fact, I've just joined a group of, well, fellow workaholics, we kinda promised to look out for each other." I kept a close watch on his face, but there wasn't a flicker beyond polite interest. Well, duh, Jesse; Nightwing knows who *you* are and if this is him, he's not gonna give himself away so easily.

Thinking about that, for a moment I was *pissed.* Nightwing tracked *me* down in my civilian identity, came right into the office bold as brass. Why shouldn't I do the same?

"Something wrong?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I was just reminded about someone who barged into my office awhile back. The guy who invited me into the group, as a matter of fact." We grabbed a table and Dick waved to the big man behind the bar. Hogan, I guessed. "His intention was good but his delivery really ticked me off."

"Hm." Before he could reply, a dark-skinned boy came by the table with menus and silverware. "Hey, Mutt! Keeping your grades up?"

"Yeah. Who's the pretty lady, liberal?" The kid reeked of attitude, but he was clean and neatly dressed.

"This is Jesse Chambers, be nice, she's just visiting the 'Haven. Jesse, this is Michael Hogan."

"Mutt"--the kid looked nothing like the man behind the bar--gave me the once-over. "Just visiting? Do yourself a favor and leave quick. Hey, liberal, Hogan says your money's no good here tonight, and not to argue unless you wanna eat somewhere else."

Dick laughed and spread his hands in surrender. "All right. Tell him thanks." The boy nodded and took off. "Good kid."

There was definitely a story there. "‘Liberal'?"

"Oh, that." He toyed with his fork. "I, uh, caught him trying to rob my apartment. Street kid, no family. He calls me that ‘cause I didn't press charges. A bit later he was gonna be sent to Juvie Hall, and I introduced him to Hogan instead. Hank adopted him."

"That was an awfully nice thing to do for a kid who you met trying to steal from you."

"Yeah, well, Juvie's pretty rough even for a tough guy." A shadow went over his face, and I didn't feel I had the right to pry.

"So, ah, what's good here, anyway?" Actually, I was starving. Tapping the speed force takes a lot of energy. Wally's grocery bill is *huge.* Mine's not as bad, partly because I'm not constantly "on" like he is, but my metabolism still demands more calories than usual.

"The usual bar stuff. Good burgers. Oh, geez, I didn't think to ask if you were a vegetarian?" I shook my head no and he sighed, relieved. "Whew. Shoulda thought of that."

"No harm, no foul." Over the menu I studied his face, trying to imagine it with a mask. Funny how a scrap of fabric could change your features completely. Hmmm, yeah, something about that jawline--

I forced myself to quit staring. Just don't *go* there, girl.

We ordered and the waitress brought drinks. I was trying to come up with some brilliant topic of conversation when he said, "I hope Mr. Law ambushing you like that didn't ruin your plans--"

"No, I'm not flying back to Philly ‘til late." I might be flying part of the way, but it sure wouldn't be in any plane. What's the point of having speed-powers if you don't use ‘em to make your life easier? "Don't tell me you had nothing better to do on a Saturday night?"

"Better than getting to know someone new? Especially considering our self-admitted lack of social lives otherwise." He shook his head. "It's nice to talk to someone from somewhere else, too. 'Havenites have a pretty...jaded perspective."

"So you've lived here all your life?"

"Gotham, actually. I left before the 'quake. Still close to home." Right. Gotham, home of the Batman. It wasn't exactly *common* knowledge that Nightwing had been Robin, but it wasn't the biggest secret, either. Batman's identity, though--

I took a long drink to keep the realization from showing on my face. Batman's identity. No *wonder* Nightwing was so paranoid! Even in the hero community he was a mystery. And here I'd been trying to figure out one that might lead to the other. I was convinced about Dick by that point--well, almost--but...*Batman.* Wow. I'd have to think about that.

But Gotham was the center of an even bigger controversy these days. "Oh, God, that's just awful, what's happened there. I can't believe that was upheld as legal, cutting Gotham off. All those people!"

"It's a travesty." There was a lot of anger in his voice. "There are still people there, a lot who couldn't leave when the quarantine was declared, and they've just been left to fend for themselves. Completely abandoned by a government that has a *responsibility* to care for all its citizens, not just the ones it feels like caring about. It's absolutely--" He stopped. "Sorry. I didn't mean to go off."

"No, it's perfectly understandable. It was your city, and it *is* wrong." Batman was still there, too, even if the JLA had decided to obey the mandate and stay out. I wondered if I could speed past the barricades and get supplies in. If I moved fast enough they wouldn't see me--

"It's caused a lot of problems in Blüdhaven, too. Refugees came pouring in, tensions are high, and of course the criminal element is taking advantage of the situation for all it's worth." His frustration was almost tangible. "Sorry, again. I deal with this stuff constantly. Would you mind if we changed subjects?"

...How did he *do* it? If I was right he'd been "dealing with this" day and night and leading the Titans, too. And I thought *I* was a workaholic? "Sure. I didn't mean--" The waitress arrived with our food and we dove in. I was relieved to see his appetite was as healthy as mine; it's embarrassing to be the only one at the table stuffing your face.

After a couple of minutes, he asked, "So what about you? Running a company must be pretty challenging."

"It's interesting. Not what I ever thought I'd be doing, but I'm enjoying it." Either he already knew or I just wanted to tell him, so I said, "QuickStart was my father's company. My dad died a couple of months ago, so I took over."

He nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

"He, um..."

\--threw himself into the speed force to save me from an insane speed-force ninja named Christina who was a virtual slave to an even-more-insane self-styled "god of speed" called Savitar and never came back--

"...I miss him a lot." Understatement. What was even worse, though, was how mom was at his funeral. "This is what being a costumed adventurer gets you. It gets you dead." Thanks, Libby. Way to show that support. Mom's dealing with it better now, but it's still a touchy subject.

"You were close?"

"Yeah. Closer than me and mom, really." Dad was *fun.* Spontaneous. When I was younger, he didn't think anything of ditching a day of work to take me ice-skating. He taught me to *run.* Mom is all about schedules and planning and oh, God, I'm a lot more like her than I realized. *Why* can't I be more like him?

He reached out and touched my hand. "Jesse?"

"No, it's okay, I was just thinking--" about dad instead of talking to Dick, which was the whole point of being here. "Sorry. Didn't mean to space on you."

"I understand." Something in his eyes told me he did, too, but again, I didn't want to dig up his ghosts, whatever they were. I suddenly felt like a porcupine turned loose in a subway car full of balloons, trying to feel out a topic that wouldn't get us both in trouble. And yeah, I know the joke about porcupines. *Carefully.*

But there was something I wanted to know, really the most important thing, and I had to ask.

"Dick, why did you become a cop?"

His eyes were very blue and very clear. "Because there's a job that needs to be done here, and I can do it."

I didn't doubt it for a second.

He grinned. "Besides, I thought the 'Haven needed another cop I could count on to stay honest."

"You think a lot of yourself, don't you, Grayson!"

He started, and I didn't think it had anything to do with my comment. "Whoa. Sorry, you sounded just like--someone else, for a minute there."

"Good or bad?"

"Good. Someone who usually keeps me humble with that same tone of voice."

"Let me guess, your ‘sorta' someone?"

He looked startled, then laughed. "Yeah."

"Sounds like a smart lady." I wouldn't try to guess, I just wouldn't--

"Uh-huh." Oh, he had it bad, whoever she was.

And you know, he probably had better things to do than entertain me, despite what he'd said. "Dick, I hate to say this, but I should get going."

"You're off to the airport?"

"Yep." True enough. I'd left my costume in a locker. It was a little more dignified than changing in the alley near Mr. Law's apartment.

"Let me call you a cab." Sweet. Unnecessary, but sweet. And one must keep up appearances, after all.

So it came down to that moment. I either had to confront him, or let it go. Was Dick Grayson really Nightwing?

In a very real way, it didn't matter.

The point was, Nightwing would tell me in his own time, if I earned the trust he held in the older Titans. It was *my* job to do that, not to ferret out his secrets before he wanted to share them.

And part of that trust would be not making an issue of it, here or later. Whatever the truth turned out to be.

The cab pulled up. "Good night, Dick."

"'night, Jesse. Have a safe trip."

I was good. I let the taxi take me all the way to the airport, rather than just taking off on foot. When I got to the locker where I'd stowed my costume, I was even *better* for resisting the impulse to go out into Blüdhaven and trying to find Nightwing on patrol.

I'd earn his trust if my curiosity didn't kill me first. But I thought the risk was worth it.

Time to head home.

"3X2(9YZ)4A!"

I invoked the formula, touched the speed force...and was gone.

 

 

 

{End}

 

 

 

NOTES:

The details on Libby's relationship with Jon and their break-up come from "The Golden Age" by James Robinson (an *excellent* story, not to be missed if you're at all interested in DC history).

This was originally just a Jesse-meets-Dick-in-civvies idea sparked by Changeling's slip during the Titans' battle with the H.I.V.E. They had a connection in Jon Law--who really does live in Dick's apartment in the *Nightwing* comic. But Jon-Law-the-plot-device politely told me he had more to say, and he was right.

Continuity-wise this is set after the *Titans* H.I.V.E./Tartarus arc, but there's no matching *Nightwing* timing--I assume the Titans/Tartarus story takes place before Dick goes to Gotham and ends up in Babs' apartment (#38, THE issue ), because he's not all beat to hell. :::shrug::: Comic timewarp. Also, since this story was written *before* that arc was completed, additional continuity errors may appear in time.

Thanks to Carmen Williams for amazing insight and meticulous beta, KayJay and Dannell for general encouragement, DarkMark for a clever analogy, and Indigo and Matt Nute for being available to answer questions like, "What does QuickStart *do,* anyway?"


	2. Without Masks: Nightwing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after the H.I.V.E./Tartarus arc. A companion piece to "Without Masks," from Dick's POV.
> 
> Originally posted late 1999.

I came up the stairs as someone was saying goodbye to my neighbor Jonathan Law. He introduced me and I found myself shaking hands with Jesse Chambers--my Titans teammate Jesse Quick.

Small world!

Or maybe not. She'd been pretty irritated when I'd sneaked into her office. Maybe she'd made a project of tracking me down in return? I hadn't expected--

Then the connection suddenly *clicked* into place. Jon Law--the Tarantula--All-Star Squadron--Johnny Quick and Liberty Belle--Jesse Quick. And Jesse was a student of superheroes.

My poor landlady Bridget Clancy would either be terribly amused or appalled to realize the extent of the menagerie she has living under her roof. One retired superhero, one active one--the former super-villain in the basement, she already knew about.

What timing, too. Just a few days ago Gar spilled my identity in front of Jesse in the middle of a battle with the H.I.V.E. He'd only said my first name, but she's not stupid. She was already eyeing me, counting up the coincidences. Hair, height, lives in Blüdhaven.

No matter if I trusted her or not, and that wasn't the issue anyway. Jesse wasn't Tara Markov, she was a proven hero and the daughter of two legends herself.

Did I really care if Jesse Quick knew Dick Grayson was Nightwing? No.

But as Tim Drake demonstrated, it's just a little research and a short step away to the Batman and Robin, and I didn't have the right to compromise their identities that casually.

I could've made an excuse, pled other plans, but some instinct made me agree to Jon Law's attempt at matchmaking. Not that *that* would go anywhere. Barbara was finally opening up, realizing the chair *didn't matter* to me. She'd have to come to that on her own. I was perfectly willing to wait.

But meanwhile I could get to know Jesse a little better. The tricky part would be dancing around the identity thing. She either strongly suspected or outright knew already, and I didn't want to baldly *lie* to her.

I'd already gained a strong respect for her. Jesse had handled cases solo, with several members of the JSA, Wally and the other speedsters, even Wonder Woman. In her second battle with the Titans, she found herself a natural field leader while I was occupied elsewhere. I meant to encourage that; it'd be a good thing to have someone else willing to take command. Donna had reluctantly led the team for a while, and Roy'd been forced into it, but neither really wanted it back. Usually super-teams find they've got too many leader-types wanting the job. For some reason, the Titans rarely had that problem. I chalked it up to the nature of the Titans as opposed to other groups, that we're as much a family as a team. Closer-knit. Point is, given some experience, I'd be happy to trust Jesse with the job.

I didn't want to play games with her--she didn't deserve that. Bruce is *very* good at this sort of thing. He's the master of misdirection. But then again, Bruce Wayne acts like a total twit. He's just a mask. I'd never had the need or desire to make Dick Grayson and Nightwing two different people.

Part of that was I'd been Robin and then Nightwing nearly full-time anyway. It really hadn't been until now that Dick Grayson had a life of his own--I had a *job* like normal people, and neighbors, and even a few friends whose idea of fun *didn't* involve dressing up and taking on super-villains. What a concept.

And I admit, learning to be just-Richard-Grayson was a pretty cool thing.

All right, so. I'd been set up on a "date" by my well-meaning neighbor, what would normal-guy Grayson say?

I had no idea. This was going to be interesting.

It started okay. I kept coming back to that word "date," though, and it bothered me. Maybe normal-guy should say something.... "Um, I don't know how to say this without sounding rude...I don't know what Mr. Law told you, but I'm sorta involved with someone...."

I knew it was a mistake as soon as I said it. That made it sound like she'd been flirting, or expected something. Fortunately, she decided--I saw her decide, almost consciously--to be amused instead. Whew.

There just wasn't that much to talk about personally that didn't lead somewhere dangerous. I felt like I was picking my way through a minefield. Jesse's life was as bound up in the hero thing as mine--maybe more, considering her parents. She'd studied heroes all her life, through college, and I don't know if she *ever* had a goal for herself aside from following in her parents' footsteps.

She's driven and committed, and I have to laugh, because she reminds me so much of myself it's not funny. I wasn't kidding when I told her joining the Titans would be a chance to have some fun for a change. It's more responsibility, but also much-needed support--both for our solo efforts, and ourselves personally. The Titans help me to slow down, even in the middle of chaos, and remember my friends. I hoped she'd come to find them the same in time.

I thought for a moment she'd make an issue of it when she remembered how I'd sneaked into her office--in retrospect, probably not the best approach. Now that the situation was reversed, I understood her resentment all too well. I'd invaded her personal space, her Jesse-Chambers-identity space, and I think Jesse is like me in wanting to keep the two separated. I'd have to find a way to apologize.

At Hogan's, Mutt provided a great excuse to change the subject. The kid's doing really well now that he has someone to look after him. I think of him as one of my greater victories. Even better, a Dick-Grayson victory as opposed to a Nightwing one. There was something pretty satisfying about that.

Jesse was still trying to figure me out. She asked if I was a native of the 'Haven, and I saw her eyes widen when I mentioned Gotham. It wasn't hard to follow her thoughts; the Batman's legend leapt to mind when *anyone* talked about Gotham, and Jesse had inside information. She covered well, but I could see her mind racing. Nightwing had been Robin to Batman, and the Batman's rep alone--

It isn't just criminals he scares. He intimidates half the members of the JLA just by walking into the room. Some of the younger heroes, especially the ones who never had much contact with him, he utterly terrifies.

He finds it useful. I find it annoying. But that's his style, and he's not going to change.

I didn't think Jesse was the tremble-in-fear-at-his-name type, so she must have been thinking about the implication of knowing his identity. Smart. There are some secrets you don't want to know.

We talked a little about the 'quake and the current state of affairs in Gotham. "No Man's Land." What a horrible joke. Plus all the repercussions spilling down here, making my adopted city even more of a pit. Man, I'd had a *bad* couple of months. Why did I let myself get talked into the Titans again, anyway?

Rhetorical question. I needed them.

Through dinner I smiled a little behind my food. I'd seen Wally-West-the-fastest-man-alive eat, always blaming the speed force for his appetite--having him around was like having a black hole park itself in front of your fridge. At least Jesse had better table manners.

I asked about her job, and of course that reminded her of her father--Johnny Quick. Wally told me about his death. I'd only met him in passing during one of those big crises that seem to happen every six months or so and involve every hero on the planet. The immediate impression was of someone friendly, outgoing, totally at home in his own skin. I'd never met Liberty Belle, though I'd read about her a bit. By all accounts, she's a strong lady. Inspiring. She'd have to be, to have led the All-Stars for years. That was a *huge* team!

I could see Jesse fighting with something, and then--

"Dick, why did you become a cop?"

Why? Jesse, you already know why even if you don't know all the reasons behind it.

For my parents. For Bruce. For every kid who's lost his or her family to crime. For the kids who still have theirs. For having lived most of my life in privilege, and wanting to give something back. For the chance to bring some justice into the daylight instead of hiding it in the dark. For the simple reason that I can. For the petty reason that Batman would never think of it. For the opportunity to get back onto the streets rather than fighting above them. For my parents. For myself.

I couldn't tell her all of that--not today. But someday. That's a promise. Meanwhile...

"Because there's a job that needs to be done here, and I can do it." Then, because things were entirely too serious, "Besides, I thought the 'Haven needed another cop I could count on to stay honest."

Her response reminded me *so* much of Babs it startled me. Trust the women in my life to keep me humble.

I watched Jesse make the decision to leave rather than push further, and I respected that. I bet it wasn't easy. She'd grown up surrounded by unmasked heroes, so I suppose it seemed natural for there to be no secrets between them. If it was just me things might be different.

Even so, I *almost* said something when the cab pulled up. The habit of a lifetime--only that, really--stopped me. I watched the taxi drive off, thinking about that. Trust issues. I'd learned a lot more about that from the Titans than Bruce ever could have taught.

I knew Jesse'd be a good choice for the Titans when Wally nominated her. Now I was doubly sure of it. The team felt *right* in a way I hadn't felt in a long time, and it wasn't just having the other four founders there. Vic and Kory were equally as essential, and Grant and Toni represented the new blood the team reformed to shepherd. Jesse was a bridge between the older heroes and the new, she had a unique perspective on the job, and the only thing we'd have to watch out for would be her running herself into the ground trying to be too many places at once.

And *that* sounded all too familiar. I headed back to the apartment to prepare for another night's work.

Nightwing had a job to do.

 

 

 

{end}

 

 

 

NOTES

One comment on something Dick said above: "Usually super-teams find they've got too many leader-types wanting the job. For some reason, the Titans rarely had that problem. I chalked it up to the nature of the Titans as opposed to other groups, that we're as much a family as a team."

Actually, I need to correct him. ;) The real reason is that Dick Grayson *is* the leader of the Titans, always has been, always will be. He's the quintessential leader. It's one of the ways in which he completely surpasses his mentor. But his own sense of humility won't let him see that.


	3. Running Blind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after the H.I.V.E./Tartarus arc. A semi-sequel piece to "Without Masks". 
> 
> Originally posted early 2000.

He probably hadn't meant to, but Dick Grayson reminded me that while I spent my time fighting super-villains like Vandal Savage and the H.I.V.E., there were other battles going on every day. As a cop he faced them all the time. As a hero--as the hero I wanted to be--I figured I ought to pitch in and help.

So I accessed the speed force and flew across the barricades, into Gotham.

Into No Man's Land. Forbidden territory. No rules, no laws, no order there.

No *hope.*

For the first few minutes I just scouted, learning the lay of the land. Completely cut off from the rest of the world, Gotham had become something...different. Something awful, like a war zone in a foreign country. Right here in *America.*

I don't think about it a lot but I guess I soaked up a lot of "good old-fashioned patriotism" in the war stories my parents told. With the All-Stars they fought for the values of the era: truth, justice, and the American way. It sounds a little corny, but that belief sustained them through the worst of times.

Maybe it was because of that I *literally* couldn't believe what I was seeing here in Gotham. Dick was right. These were citizens who'd been abandoned by their country, by their own people, and left to starve and die in the dark.

I ran. I admit, I ran not just to avoid being seen, but to avoid *seeing.* In glimpses I caught the despair on those faces trapped here, the children and old men and women and madmen, and I ran to keep from having to stop and face them. What I carried was so little against their great need, if I stopped and helped one it would just be a slap in the face to the rest. I couldn't...choose....

I found a distribution center in the south part of the city, around the old police headquarters; it looked like the GCPD was holding its own in this part of town. I dropped what I carried there in with the other supplies. Cowardly, I guess, but they knew better than me where this stuff should go--I hoped. It was so little--

I ran. I ran out of the building, across the city, feeling too guilty to leave and too scared to stop. I ran until I had to stop, gasping for breath, leaning against a building and wishing I knew what to do. Dad would've run himself ragged, cheerfully ignoring all the danger around him. Mom would've marched in, looked around, and had the whole place organized in a couple of hours. Me, I'd carried in my sad little backpack full of stuff and thought I could make a difference.

"Jesse Quick."

The voice came from behind me, dark and grim, and I jumped. I couldn't help it. I turned, and there he was. The legend.

"Why are you here?"

Calm, stay calm. Oh, God. "I brought supplies. Food, some medicine. I wanted to help."

"You're breaking the law."

"It's *wrong.* Sir." Look at me, talking back to the Batman.

He just looked at me through that unreadable cowl. I tried not to flinch.

"I hope you don't make a habit of that."

"No, sir." I bit my tongue to keep from babbling. You know I work with Nightwing, right? He trusts me, does that mean anything to you? I can *do* this, I'm not intruding on your territory, let me help where I can--

"You can rest in the MASH sector. The hospital there is safe shelter."

I felt like he'd read my mind. "I understand." Oh, I hoped I'd taken his meaning right.

"Hh." That wasn't a laugh. It was way too scary to be a laugh. "You'd have to live here to do that."

"I only came with the supplies." I won't interfere more than that. I won't.

"Good." A low explosion from blocks away brought his head up and he melted into the shadows. Gone. Something was going on, something big, but I'd promised.

I found the hospital, run by an efficient-looking older lady.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

She didn't look surprised to see another costumed hero. I guess there wasn't much that could surprise Gothamites anymore. "Can I help you?"

"Actually, I was hoping I could help you. My name's Jesse Quick. I brought some supplies in from outside and, um, someone told me the hospital could use some things."

"Someone. Hm." A brief smile flitted across her face. "Help is always welcome. I'm Leslie Thompkins. If you can really get in and out without getting yourself in trouble...."

"Yes, Doctor Thompkins. The army patrols never saw me."

"But ‘someone' did. Well, then, Jesse, if you're willing, I'll make up a shopping list for you. And call me Leslie."

Well, I couldn't do *that* but I could help her and I did, and I felt a little better for it. Doctor Thompkins had *faith* even in the middle of all that hopelessness; every life she saved was another strike against the despair that ruled Gotham now. In between runs I learned from the hospital staff more about the state of the city, and it only made what they were doing here all the more impressive. They were the heroes here, not me.

Don't ask where I found the supplies. I'd have to lie, and that wouldn't be very heroic either.

They made me stop at nightfall. "It's dangerous, Jesse, and you look exhausted." Another doctor--a young African-American man, very solicitous--reached to take my pulse. "Have you eaten today? All that running must be burning calories...."

I dropped to a cot. "I'm all right. Just let me catch my breath."

His eyes were kind. "Go home, Jesse. You've done enough for one day."

"Not nearly." I laughed a little. It wasn't very nice.

He took my hand, pulled me up, and pushed me toward the tent door. "Listen. We're all very appreciative, believe me. But the last thing we need is another casualty. And we need the bed space. So *go home.*" He smiled to take the sting out of it. "We won't forget what you've done. Just having clean needles will help tremendously."

"Okay. I--I'll come back, soon as I can. I promise."

I was halfway out of the city before I realized I never asked his name. Smooth.

I *was* exhausted. But I couldn't go home yet--too keyed up. I grabbed some fast food and went for Titans' Tower. Maybe someone'd be there. I just didn't feel like being *alone,* suddenly.

Changeling was in the common room. "Hey, Jesse! ... Boy, you look bad."

I fell into a chair. "Gee, thanks."

"Uh, I didn't mean--you look tired, that's all."

"Yeah." I covered my eyes with a hand. "Long day."

"I know *that* feeling." I didn't hear him move, but there was a weight on my left shoulder all of a sudden; when I looked up, I saw a green monkey perched there. "Wanna talk about it?"

I had to smile. "Thanks. No, I--"...probably shouldn't talk about the *illegal* thing I'd been doing all day. "...thanks anyway. I appreciate it, Changeling."

The monkey spread his hands. "Just trying to help. And call me Gar, willya? Titans together, and all that."

Yeah. Donna and Kory came in then, laughing about something, and it felt *right* being here. Just being with the team, *my* team, like I belonged.

A few days later Nightwing finally showed up--he'd been notably absent from the evening get-togethers. Things were busy in Blüdhaven, I guess. He leaned over and put a hand on my shoulder. "Thanks." He murmured it so quietly I wasn't sure I'd heard him.

I glanced up. "Huh?"

He kept his tone casual. "I heard you were in Gotham."

"Oh. I, uh--"

"Thank you, Jesse." He smiled. "He can't do it all, regardless of what he'd like everyone to think. And it's still the city where I grew up." Nightwing squeezed my shoulder and turned away.

...Wow. Maybe I did all right, after all.

 

 

{End}


End file.
